


Sunny Side

by daisygonezu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisygonezu/pseuds/daisygonezu
Summary: Atsumu would give her the world.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Sunny Side

**Author's Note:**

> hi. this is reallllly short but i’m leaving it here just bc i needed to get it out of my system.
> 
> the breakdown:  
> \- single dad au  
> \- atsumu lives alone with his daughter, hotaru  
> \- i came up with the name randomly. sounds cute. 
> 
> recommended:   
> i listened to a song called “Driving to Hawaii” by Summer Salt while writing this; it kinda sets the mood if anyone is interested
> 
> find me on twt @daisygonezu for more haikyuu rambles

The master bedroom was soaked from wall to floor in golden sunshine when Atsumu’s eyes cracked open. He could hear the wind chimes dangling outside his opened window, delicate glass butterflies tinkling against metal rods in delightful harmony, and the weather was already warm enough that he didn’t feel too concerned about the lack of coverage on his torso and legs. The mattress bent to accommodate his position, pillow soft and plush beneath his hair; he’d scrunched up the corner while sleeping, but there was no discomfort, only easy, tranquil breathing.

All of these sensations, accompanied by the reassuring weight on his chest, wrung out a satisfied exhale from somewhere deep within— a genuine breath of fresh air, the smell of _Arau_ soap and baby powder light on his nose.

He allowed himself a second of reprieve, letting his eyes slip closed again for a few more minutes before forcing the lids open to peek down at the diapered lump pressing into him. 

“ Hotaru-chan ,” he crooned, voice rumbling with the grit of consciousness, “G’mornin’, hon. Rise n’ shine...”

He couldn’t remember what time he’d fallen asleep, but clearly he’d been tired if he didn’t have the strength of mind to at least put Hotaru in her crib. She had passed out on top of her dad, round tummy smoothed over Atsumu’s firm one with her arms curled into the blanket her grandmother had gifted on the day she was born.

The two year-old stirred, rubbing her face along his skin, one fat cheek squished against his sternum. There was a tiny pool of spittle leaking from the corner of her mouth onto Atsumu’s pec; he frowned at it with a  _ hmph _ , dragging himself forward from the sheets to sit upright and pluck a tissue from the box on his nightstand. With Hotaru cradled against his shoulder, he wiped the spit off his chest and swiped the fibers across her lips before scrunching it up into a wad. If there was anyone else present at the time, he might have tried to convince them that his aim was usually perfect, but since it was just him and Hotaru in the apartment, there was no remorse, no shame whatsoever when he launched the tissue in the direction of his trash bin and missed it entirely. He’d pick it up later, if he remembered. 

Atsumu leaned into his daughter slightly, the feather-soft touch of dark hair, sparse as it was, on his chin. She hummed into his neck.

“It’s Saturday, ‘Taru-chan. ‘Ya wanna omelette?” Her teeth had just finished developing, and it was always a joy to watch Osamu figure out which foods she liked chewing on the most, whether it be eggs or rice balls or cherry tomatoes. She liked a bit of everything. “We’re all outta yogurt, though. Sorry.”

The toddler gurgled unintelligibly and Atsumu nodded, “I know, s’really inconvenient for both of us.”

Hoisting himself onto his feet, he shuffled into the bathroom while readjusting the waistband of his boxers, comfortably seating Hotaru on the countertop so he could pee and wash his hands properly. She waited with the patience of a saint, tugging at her own fingers and poking the variety of half-empty bottles surrounding the sink. When Atsumu finished, he scooped her back into his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead, exaggerating the gesture by pecking several other places on her face. The sight of Hotaru’s confused pout at having been bombarded by affection so suddenly made Atsumu’s modest smile expand into a toothy grin. She was mesmerized by the stubble coating his jaw, scratching her fingertips against it with bulging eyes. 

The kitchen was far brighter than his bedroom had been, heavily doused in natural lighting through several bullseye windows. Last night’s dinner was packaged up in a tupperware on the counter, but aside from that lone display of organization, the surrounding area was littered with a hotchpotch of crumbs, mini pieces of cardboard that had been ripped off from the boxes whenever Atsumu opened them too aggressively, plastic wrap and clusters of cereal that had spilled out of his bowl. The dishes were still in the sink. Osamu’d yell at him if he saw. 

“We made a mess, ‘Taru-chan. Y’er supposed to keep me in line,” he mumbled to himself, “Not doin’ a very good job, huh?”

Hotaru slapped a chubby palm against his bicep. 

“Eh, whatever. I’ll let it slide.” He grabbed the handle of a frying pan and set it on the stove, rummaging through the shelves of his fridge for the carton of eggs he was certain Osamu had brought with him during his last visit. “Let’s get cookin’, hm?”

“Buh-“

“Totally. Buh.”


End file.
